For the weak,
effort might not necessarily bear fruit.
But at the very least, it could prove one thing: that they had done their best.
Giving up might not necessarily lead to regret later on.
But at the very least, it brought a moment of ease.
For Yang Zutao now,
he was regretting his choice back then.
He regretted giving up too early, which left him feeling so utterly hopeless today.
If he had persisted in striving before this,
then at least now, he could have consoled himself with the words "I did my best"...
At this moment,
within that fleeting instant,
facing the violent winds controlled by his opponent,
he even felt scenes from his past life crazily surging before his eyes...
There were the happy days of his childhood.
There were scenes of him diligently cultivating in his youth.
And there was the sight of him making a name for himself in the Gang Competition during his early adulthood...
It had to be said that those truly had been the brightest moments of his life.
Even now, he still remembered how, at that moment, tens of thousands of gang members had cheered for him, shouting his name in unison...
At that moment,
he had felt that he was the center of the world, a true heaven-blessed prodigy!!
Of course,
looking back on it now,
he had been nothing more than an ordinary man without any self-awareness.
If geniuses could be ranked by grades,
then at most, he could only be considered a relatively outstanding genius in some rural town.
Every ten or twenty years, each town could produce a few people with talent roughly equal to his.
Perhaps one lucky person among them would successfully grow into something greater, or perhaps not a single one would make it,